The Chiming of Bells
by Mortician of the Undead
Summary: (RED!Engineer x OC) When one of RED Teams teammates dies in a respawn failure, despair rested over RED Base. But when Miss Pauling comes with a new Mercenary, what is to happen? Will this new Mercenary bring doom and desperation, or will the Mercenary come with Partnership and Trust... And perhaps a little bit of love on the way? RATED T, POSSIBLE M IN FUTURE
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1: The start of the Beginning**

The base for the RED mercenaries was quiet. Usually the Scout would run around in the halls, talking about the stuff he wanted to talk about, and just being an annoying boy.

But it was silent, and it had been so for a couple of weeks. A fault in their respawn machine had resulted in one of their teammate's life. A fault had happened before, but the teams Engineer were able to fix it in time, just before the weekly battle.

Inside the base, the now eight mercenaries sat around a round table. Most sat with hung heads, not daring to look at the fellow teammates. It came as a shock for them. They thought they had fixed the mistake years back.

A sigh escaped from the youngest of the bunch, and a mumble followed. ''I… This may come as a surprise, but I…'', he stopped, gulping down some of the saliva that had unexpectedly come to his mouth, ''… I actually kind of miss him.''.

The other mercenaries mumbled out their agreement. They had gone over this a few times in their own minds, but when the youngest, Scout, had said it out loud, they agreed finally for the rest of the room.

To think that a class they used to, kind of despise, had fallen. And they _missed _him. If the Administrator had heard them, she would be in a rage. They weren't hired for this sappy stuff! They were killers! Trained to not feel anything if a teammate should fall!

Luckily she could only see, and not hear.

She apparently hadn't guessed that in the years the men had worked together, they would become like family for each other.

A crackle over the speakers could be heard, and the voice of a woman who had smoked too much in her years was heard. ''Mercenaries! In about 30 minutes, a new mercenary will come! Show some _kindness please_,'', the word 'kindness' was spit out with sarcasm. A new crackle was then heard, but nothing followed. It was just to show that the Administrator left.

A new kind of silence emerged, this one of pure confusion instead of the dreary one before. The Sniper spoke up, his head rising from its hanging position. ''A new mercenary?''. He basically asked the question everyone wanted to ask.

The Medic turned his head, and looked at the clock across the room. It seemed like they had sat in the surprised silence for too long, and they only had 20 minutes left to welcome the new Mercenary.

20 minutes away from the base, a single van was driven by what looked like a burly man in his mid forty's. A voice spoke from the back of the white vehicle. ''Are we there soon?''. The man, thought about the question, and answered. ''Soon. But remember what I told ya'! You will have to walk the last 5 minutes! I won't go near that place.''. The figure in the back nodded, its face shrouded in shadows.

After the 15 minutes were gone, the unknown person stepped away from the van, and the vehicle drove away in haste. The unknown person shielded its eyes from the dust that the van left behind. It removed its hand after a while, and a sigh escaped from its lips. After standing for a few seconds, the figure moved forward, following the dusty road that would lead to what is known as 'Teufort'.

Though the figure wasn't on its way to the city part. No, it followed the other road. To the 'Teufort RED Base'. The figure followed the road, until it stood before a clearly painted sheet. Before it stood a woman dressed in purple. She wasn't as old as the woman who called the person, but the elderly woman over the phone told the person that it was to meet a 'Young woman clad in Purple attire'.

When the woman in purple saw the unknown person, she jogged over with a small clipboard. She adjusted her glasses and smoothed out her knee length skirt, and then began to speak. ''Hello! You must be the new mercenary! You may call me Miss Pauling.''. The woman, Miss Pauling, scrunched her eyes a bit, pursed her lips, and continued with her speech. ''I… I can't really see what gender you are, but please follow me Mr…'', she looked down at her clipboard, and was surprised to see no name, nor last name on it.

She shrugged, and made a gesture with her hand to the figure. The shadowed person followed the woman, and together they paced forward to RED Base.

As they reached the Base, Miss Pauling opened a door that was most likely the backdoor, and gestured for the person to walk in first. When the person had walked in, she closed the door after her, and she lead the way to what would be the Meeting room.

The eight mercenaries inside the base had hurried around the base, not knowing what to do. They in the end decided to sit in the meeting room, all lights on making it seem unnaturally bright in contrast to what it normally was. It was strange seeing one of the chairs not have its owner sitting in it anymore.

They sat and waited, and when a knock was heard they all looked to the door. It opened, and at first they only saw Miss Pauling. They looked at her, and when she sighed and moved so she could say something to the person with her, she stepped aside, and let the figure walk in. She then walked in directly behind the person, and closed the door.

The quiet atmosphere was broken by a sigh from the unknown person, which wore a coat to hide all curves and facial structures from view. They weren't able to see anything because of it.

A clunk was heard, and a duffel bag fell to the floor. It had a decent size. Scout leaned forward to get a better look at it, and a chuckle was then heard. It wasn't a chuckle of neither feminine, nor manly sound. It was neutral. A voice rang out from the coat. ''Always the curious one, eh?''.

Scout gasped, he could recognize the voice. After all, it was one he had heard almost constantly as a child. Though the smile on his face first came when the coat fell from the persons shoulders. ''Cyrille!''.

Beneath the coat was a woman. She was tall, nearly standing at 6 feet. An angular face with a slightly hooked nose was present. Her lips were thin, but not reptile like, they were pleasant to look at. Her eyes were shaped in such a way that if she wanted them to they could either look soft and kind, or they could be seen as sharp and intimidating. The color of them was a stormy blue, and the color of it could nearly make one shiver. Her eyebrows were raised slightly, but in the end they were pretty average, not too thick, nor too thin. The hair was short, boyishly so. It was slicked back, except a small piece of hair that hang in front of her eyes. The hair was in shades of dark-brown, and small hints of a lighter tone could be seen every now and then.

Her body wasn't very curvy. One would say that it had a certain manliness to it. Her hips were narrow, the waist was slightly muscular, her chest was smaller than average, and her shoulders wider than they needed to be. The legs were long and thin, but you would be able to see that they belonged to a woman.

The youngest mercenary ran from his chair, and dashed with as much speed as possible towards the woman. She was clad in a simple black blazer, a white shirt underneath it, and black suit pants rested on her legs. When Scout had reached her, he threw his arms around her and crushed her to his body, despite the woman being taller than him by a few centimeters.

She backed slightly in surprise, and a hoarse laugh escaped her lips, before she also embraced him. ''I thought I was never to see you again!'', came from his lips.

She smiled at the young man, but then dropped it when a cough was heard.

''Miss Pauling! What is this… Woman, supposed to do here! Wasn't we supposed to get a new Mercenary?'', asked the ever so strict Soldier. He wasn't in the least bit happy that a _woman_ of all people were to know about them.

Miss Pauling didn't get the change to answer them, as the voice of the Administrator was heard over the speakers again. ''Please welcome our newest _teammate_.''. And then she was out again.

The men of RED Base were shocked to say the least. A woman? Working for RED Team? It had to be a joke! Even Miss Pauling seemed to be surprised, but quickly got out of the stupor.

The Scout seemed to be the one taking the news the hardest. ''W-what?'', was all he could get out, his arms loosening from the woman, Cyrille, and then went completely slack and returned to his sides.

A groan came from Cyrille. She had expected this to go smooth, not end in a total disaster. ''Yes,'', she got out, and continued. ''I am your new mercenary.''.

A hand rose from the men, and Cyrille looked to the male. She nodded at him in a 'Go' fashion. The male began to speak, and a German accent rolled from his tongue. ''May I ask, _Cyrille_…'', he stopped there, tasting her name on his tongue. It sounded weird coming from his lips, and she grimaced. ''… What is your… _Class_?''.

At that question, all eight male eyes rested on hers, and the gaze of Miss Pauling was also present. She coughed in her hand, and her voice flowed out in an accent they all knew too well. After all, their former teammate owned it. ''From what I was told… I was to be your new _Spy_.''.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2: The fiasco of a Team**

''WHAT?!''. An angry voice rang out. It belonged to the Sniper, a man who had worked side by side with the former Spy. The scrape of a chair, a jostle of clothes, and the Sniper was quick to walk up to the new Spy, Cyrille. He grabbed her blazer in both of her hands, and tightened his grip. His eyes got in a glare behind his amber tinted sunglasses, and he hissed. ''I refuse to work with this… This _wretch_.''.

Cyrille's eyes opened slightly, and then steeled into a cold squint. She sneered at the Sniper, and shot out venomous words. ''How dare you!'', her French accent was heard in all corners of the room, and a few people winced at the venom in her voice. ''How dare you, bushman! Is this how this is supposed to be? Am I really that much of a hindrance?''. Sniper's eyes widened and his vision wandered over her face.

His hands that tightly clasped her blazer slackened, and his gaze dropped to the floor. He mumbled out something, but Cyrille couldn't hear it. ''I'm sorry, what was that?'', she spat out. She wasn't even trying to be nice. Sniper winced, and then mumbled a bit louder. She scoffed. ''I can't understand mumbling.''.

The Sniper raised his voice, and he nearly shouted out the answer in despair. ''You remind me of _him_!''. A collective of gasps echoed in the room, like when a schoolgirl would tell who her crush was. Cyrille stood still, and then blinked twice. She tilted her head, and when she was to ask a question, Sniper continued. ''You look like him! Your nose! Your eyes! Your stature! Heck, even your laugh is spot on!''.

He shook his head, mumbled something that sounded like 'I won't work together with you', and walked out of the meeting room, being sure to slam the door after him.

The slam echoed, and Scout jumped, nearly bumping into Cyrille.

The woman scowled at the door, before straightening herself and going into a professional position. Her eyes scanned the rest of the men, and to her it seemed like they all shrunk in their chairs. Even the big guy beside the German seemed to get a bit smaller. Cyrille whipped her head over to Scout. Her eyes softened. ''Who… Do I remind of you of?''.

Scout shifted slightly and then answered hesitantly. ''Our former Spy.''. He held a pause, his eyes sweeping over his teammates. ''He died.''.

An 'Oh', escaped her lips. She shuffled a bit, seemingly unaware of how to react. She nervously smoothed out her blazer, like a habit and kept her hands occupied. A finger twitched, and Cyrille winced. ''Uhmmm…'', she got out, trying to find a theme to talk about. Yet when she were about to talk the Medic of the team rose from his chair, and talked.

''Your hand keep twitching. Is something wrong? Do you need anything?'', he asked, his eyes steely but curious. The new Spy nodded fast, but then shook her head. ''No. I don't need anything.''. The Medic squinted his eyes. ''I know you need something, Fräulein*.''. ''I really don't.'', she insisted, her whole right hand shaking, but of course she didn't know that. She was in a fight with herself about self control at the moment.

The Scout piped up. ''Is it a cigarette?''. The woman stopped, her mouth hanging open from the word she was about to say. She quickly closed it though, and hesitantly nodded. ''I tried stopping though…'', she mumbled out. Scout shook his head though, and lightly smiled. ''We both know that you can't stop.'', he said.

A hoarse chuckle escaped Cyrille's lips. ''You're right.''. Her slightly shaking right hand drove into her blazer, and a few seconds later a silver case emerged. She quickly opened it, and took one of the cancer sticks out from it. She closed it again with a 'Clank', and elegantly put the stick in between her lips. While the case still was in her right hand, her left hand dove into her pocket in her suit pants, fingers fumbling after a lighter. Her brows knitted together, and then sighed when she remembered that she forgot her expensive lighter back at the van with the older male.

She slightly sucked on the cigarette, a expression of thought on her face. She didn't see when the gasmask clad figure stood from its chair and walked in front of her, holding a cheap one-time lighter in its hand. Only when she was poked by a finger enclosed in rubber did she see the flickering flame in front of her face. She stood mesmerized for a few seconds, and the asked out loud: ''May I smoke in here? Or shall I go outside?''. The voice of Miss Pauling was who answered her question. ''You are allowed to smoke in here. Just promise us to not set anything on fire.''.

Cyrille chuckled, and a 'Sure' left her mouth as she leaned forward, lightening the cigarette. She let it burn a bit, before breathing in. A satisfied breath was let out together with the smoke she had breathed in, and the smell of smoke filled the air. ''Merci.'', she let out. A bunch of mumbles that sounded happy came from the masked figure, and a quick hug came afterwards, making the woman stretch her back in utter surprise.

When the figure let her go, it skipped back to its chair. The lighter was still alight in its hand, and when it sat it moved the flame up to its face, and a blissful sound came from inside the mask. Cyrille stood still for some moments. ''Does… It have a name?''.

A man with a drunken slur slung out some sounds that sounded like 'Pyro', but she couldn't be sure. A quick glance around the room though was enough for her to see that it was true.

Removing the cigarette from her chapped lips, she rested her hand at her side, making the stick dangle between her nimble fingers.

A 'Thump' was heard, and the man with the eye-patch fell from his chair, drool sliding from his mouth and down onto the floor. A small 'disgusting' came from Cyrille, a look on her face showing of the emotion matching the word. But it wasn't really heard by all. Only Scout heard it, and he had trouble stifling his laughter.

A sigh came from Miss Pauling while she stepped forward, tapping the new Spy on the shoulder. Cyrille turned, and words flew out of the woman clad in purples mouth. ''Miss Cyrille, you need to get your uniform.''. Miss Pauling held up her hand, and there hang two different kind of fancy slim bags. ''There is two, as we didn't know if you were a male or female, but…'', she stopped, and laid one of the bags on the floor carefully. She then stood up and began to open the other on. ''This one is meant for the females.''.

When it had opened, and she took the clothing out from it, Cyrille made a noise of displeasure. There was a skirt! And was that stockings? ''It is so… So revealing!'', she spat out. She quickly took the fine clothing and just about hissed at it. How could she walk around in that? There were as said, a skirt that would reach her mid thigh, see through stockings that would be held up by straps that would sit in her underwear, a tight blazer that would show of her non-existing curves, and a scarf that would show of her cleavage. Also underneath the blazer were to be a nearly see through white shirt. On her face there would lay a pair of expensive designer sun-glasses, and a hood-like hat were to hide her hair. The shoes that she would wear were high-heels. All of it was in colors of bright red, black and white.

''I refuse to wear this!'', she told Miss Pauling. Cyrille held out her left hand, as her right one was still occupied by the cigarette, though there wasn't much of it left.

The other woman sighed, and gave the new Spy the other bag. ''This one is for males.''. When Cyrille got her hand on the bag, she dropped the cancer stick, and was sure to smudge it out with her shoes. She then turned to Scout. ''Care to show me the way to a bathroom?''. He shrugged, and began to jog to the door, Cyrille following. They exited the room, went down a hallway, turned a right, and before them stood a door labeled 'Community Bathroom'. Cyrille was horrified. That meant she would have to share with a bunch of _men_.

Though she didn't dwell on it for long, and she entered the bathroom. Inside it there were a lot of stalls, covered by curtains. There was also another kind of stall, though these were completely covered by tall wall like planks that were painted in a ghastly green. Otherwise, it looked like an ordinary locker-room. One of them you would see in a High school.

She walked into one of the stalls with planks, and saw a toilet in it. She shrugged, opened the bag, and began to remove her clothes.

Back in the meeting room the Scout had returned. He was normally one to want to peep if women were to change clothes, but he knew that Cyrille would kill him if he did. He also figured that she would know the way back, since it was an easy way to the bathroom.

He scanned the room, and then got back to his chair. The Medic had also returned to his seat where he looked over health papers of the team, and every now and then Scout could see a few pictures of the Medics experiments.

He sat still for a few seconds, and then began tapping on his legs. This continued for a few minutes.

In the stall Cyrille had finally put on the clothes, and she moved slightly her limps to become more comfortable in it. It was a new uniform, so it was kind of stiff. Once she was comfortable and had taken her original clothes up in her arms, she opened the stall and moved towards the door that would lead out of the Community Bathroom. She opened it, and moved out.

Cyrille followed the way Scout had showed her, and know that she thought about it, it was kind of obvious. When she had reached her destination, she stopped right before the door, just so it was impossible for the ones inside the room to see her. She took a breath, straightened her back, walked into the room and cleared her throat.

With the clear of a throat, the males inside the room lifted their heads to see what the woman, Cyrille, were to wear. And what they saw wasn't exactly a surprise, yet it came out as a surprise.

The clothing were no-where near feminine, it actually hid her curves from sight. She wore the standard male Spy uniform. A suit in the color of 'Redwood Red', with a lighter tone of pinstripes clung to her torso and legs. Underneath the coat you could just about see a vest in the same colors. A blood red tie hang around her neck in a nice fashion, and a pristine white button up shirt rested underneath it all. Her hands wore bound in charcoal gloves that made small sounds whenever she flexed her hands. On her feet she wore leather shoes that seemed expensive. They had small heels that would click slightly whenever she walked.

Though what really got most of them was the balaclava resting on her head. It showed only the area around her eyes, and her mouth. Her nose was completely covered in the fine cloth. Her eyebrows were visible and arched; one of them was even raised. The small wisp of hair that normally rested above her eyes was still there, and it split into two. It was the only sign of what laid above her eyes.

In all, she looked like a man. Even her chest had been relatively squished down, making her chest nearly flat except for two small bumps.

Cyrille scratched her neck, or tried, and looked at the men. ''So… What do you think?'', she asked them, and the Scout showed of a shaky thumbs-up, the Heavy smiled nervously and the Soldier huffed.

The woman who stood in the background, Miss Pauling, shook her head, smiled slightly and said: ''Come now _Spy_,'', she said, testing the class name out. It was weird having to say it to a woman now, she concluded. '', I will show you to your room.''.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3: When minutes turn to Hours**

A cough came from the room that had been left for several weeks. The door to said room opened, and the Spy walked out, holding a hand over her mouth. She wore a simple white top with red boxers, her feet bare and cold on the floor of the base. She walked nearly silent across the flooring, her feet making small pattering sounds.

Another cough escaped her, and she leaned up against a wall. She really had to stop smoking before going to bed. She continued along the dark hallway. She finally reached the kitchen, as shown to her earlier that day by Miss Pauling. It was ordinary. A kettle was placed on one of the counters, a fridge leaned up against a wall and the stove rested snugly beside it. A long table fit for ten people was in the middle of the room, and simple wooden chairs surrounded it.

She walked into the room, and walked over to the cabinets that were above the counter. She opened one, closed it, and opened another. Inside that cabinet were a stack of plastic cups, and she took one that was in an orange hue. She quickly closed said cabinet and walked over to the sink to fill it up with water.

The clearing of a throat made her jump and lose her grip on her freshly filled cup, making it fall on the floor with a bounce, water splashing up on her legs. She turned around, nearly giving her a whiplash, and stared at the figure she hadn't seen sitting in the dark kitchen at the table.

The Engineer was a man of strategy, but she couldn't help but let out a groan of annoyance. 'Why hadn't she seen him?', she asked herself in her head. Maybe it was because she was tired? Or simply because she forgot to take in her surroundings? It was a bit of both, she concluded in the end.

He still had that rubber glove on his right arm, but otherwise he sat in a black t-shirt and long wooly pajama pants, making half of his feet being covered in them. From where she stood, she decided that he wasn't a tall man.

''What are ya' doing this late at night?'', her questioned her. He took a sip of the coffee that stood in front of him, his eyes behind his goggles never leaving hers.

She was about to answer him when another cough escaped her lungs, and she waved her hand dismissively, before bending down to get the cup to get it refilled. Her hand that wasn't around her mouth collected it and she removed the bacteria filled hand to turn on the water again, filling the cup to the brim with the clear liquid. Afterwards she washed her hands with some of the soap that stood beside the sink.

When she was about to drink the water in the cup, the Engineer gave of a warning. ''I wouldn't drink that, _Cyrille_… Or Spy. The water is filled with lead, and we don't really want a poisoning, do we?''.

Cyrille quickly removed the cup from her mouth. ''Where should I then find some?'', she asked, a glint in her eyes showing of her annoyance. ''In the fridge,'', he started and pointed at the white cooler. ''There are bottled water in it.''. She took two strides to get to the fridge and opened it swiftly. Inside it were rows and rows of cheap bottled water. She sighed, took one that was near her and screwed the cap of.

''Thanks.'', she mumbled out. She wasn't too keen on thanking people, and she would mostly avoid it if possible. She took a simple sip of the cool water and sighed in bliss. She nodded at the Engineer and moved to go out of the kitchen, yet his voice stopped her again.

''You… You wanna talk or something?'', she looked over her shoulder to see him scratch his chin sheepishly. ''It's not every day you get to talk to one at these hours.''. She smiled and a 'sure' came from her lips. Cyrille took out one of the chairs and sat on it, the water bottle still in her hand. She was silent for a few seconds, the Engineer looking at her with a neutral expression, and then she began to talk.

Long into the night, the two humans sat in the uncomfortable table, discussing strategies, their favorite colors and just about every topic that interested them. But never did they reach the topic of their pasts.

The Engineer was a long way into telling about the way he build sentries when a small snore reached his ears, and his goggle clad eyes crossed over to the woman hunched over the table, a small smile on her serene face as she slept. He chuckled, and rose as silently as he could from the creaky chair and moved into the rec room just beside the kitchen to fetch a blanket. When he returned he saw that Cyrille had slightly turned her head, and her mouth was slightly parted, small puffs of air coming from her throat. A light dribble of saliva was on its way down her cheek.

He lightly chuckled and swiped a thumb gently across her cheek where the droll was, just so she wouldn't wake up embarrassed about drooling in her sleep. He then took the blanket and laid it over her, so she at least could keep warm when she slept. He wasn't about to lift her. That would be rude, or so he thought. You don't just lift people up without permission.

The Engineer decided that it would be a good time for him to leave. He had downed his coffee hours ago. He moved to leave the room, looked back at the sleeping woman. He quickly wondered if it would be okay to leave her, and when he realized she would be fine, he left the kitchen to move back to his room, his bed the ideal place to search for dreams.

When Cyrille woke, it was with her eyes quickly opening. This wasn't her room. This wasn't even a bed. She quickly sat up, and then winced. Her back was stiff as a board. She groaned, and stretched. It gave off a 'Pop' sound, and she sighed in relief.

A neutral expression rested on her face. It was still early in the morning, she concluded. She quickly took a look at the clock that hung on the wall to the right. 06:00 AM. Enough time to make breakfast for the team.

At around 07:00 AM, members consisting of Soldier in only shorts, Medic in loose pajama pants and a wrinkly shirt and Heavy with a t-shirt in beige and boxers on walked into the kitchen to grab some breakfast. Though what they didn't expect was the woman clad in a white top and red boxers standing before the stove, a spatula in the right hand, a toothpick resting lazily between her lips and her left hand laying on the pan that stood over the fire, something simmering in it. The Heavy smelled the air, and was delighted to find that it smelled good.

''I didn't think you were one of the people to make breakfast.'', came the steady answer form the Medic, as he slid a chair out and then sat in it. He had a newspaper that was several weeks old resting under his arm, and opened it so he could read it again. ''I'm not.'', was the short answer from the French woman. ''But it is technically the first day of work, so why not be… Nice.''. The Medic shrugged at her answer, and turned his eyes to the American paper.

''Is it American food?''. Cyrille looked sharply over to the Soldier. ''No.''. ''Then I will not eat it!'', he huffed. ''Then you shall starve.'', she shrugged, a small discreet smirk on her face. People like him amused her. ''But… Then what shall I eat?'', the perplexed voice of Soldier rung in the small area. ''You could always cook yourself.''. You could literally hear the amount of pleasure she got from this conversation. ''But I don't know how to cook! That's what women are supposed to do!'', if one were to describe the Soldiers voice, it would be of displeasure.

A quick glance over the shoulder from Cyrille, and a blur moved away from her. It landed with a 'Tching', in the table, and it swayed so fast you couldn't see what it was. It was but a change that the Soldier had moved his hand in time, or else it would have been impaled by a fork.

A moment of silence, and the scrambled of Cyrille moving whatever laid on the pan was the only thing heard. A shuffle by the door took the men's attention. ''Hi guys- What is that fork doing in the table?'', came the voice of the young Scout. Behind him the rest of the team could mostly be seen, except the Engineer.

The Soldier quickly stood, his chair falling backwards in his haste and he pointed an excusing finger at Cyrille. ''That woman is nuts! She threw a fork at me!''. A snort came from the direction of Cyrille. ''After he said that women belongs behind the counter.'', she threw at him. The Demoman laughed, and shot in a, ''Atleast we know she can aim!''. A collective of laughs came from the men standing in the doorway, and they flooded in to sit at the table that seemed too small for all of them. The only ones not laughing was the Sniper and the Soldier. The man with the helm sniffed in annoyance, and sat down, yanking the utensil out of the wood.

A 'Breakfast is ready' came from the Spy, and the men rushed to collect plates from the shelves, and then swiftly sat down again at the table as the woman walked around them, giving them all a bit of the food sitting in the pan. Omelets were one of the things she could actually cook well.

Soon the kitchen was filled with chatter, laughing and bad jokes. It had been a long time since somebody last made food for them. Though the chattering stopped as a giant yawn came from the entrance to the kitchen, and the Engineer with his hardhat, goggles and rubber glove stood and scratched his stubble on his cheek in embarrassment of ruining the mood. ''I hope I'm not late.'', was his reply to the astounding silence, and a few laughs and chuckles came from the crowd in the kitchen. Even a small pat on his shoulder from the Pyro was enough for the jokes to get going.

Though what his eyes were on was the plates filled with the French breakfast, and he was disheartened to see that there was none left. He quickly sat down at the second last seat.

Cyrille saw the expression on his face, and in a small moment of pity moved from leaning against the counter to walking over to the man in goggles. She made a small 'Erhum' sound in her throat, and the men stopped chattering to look at her. She gave them a look, and said: ''Stop looking at me. I was gesturing to the Engineer.''. When they didn't stop she sighed and looked over to the man which attention already laid on her.

She shuffled a bit in her place and then in a state of embarrassment held her right hand forward, in which her plate with half of her omelet was on. A small coat of red, though nearly invisible, rested on her pale cheeks. Though it was only because she didn't like what she were about to do. It wasn't everyday that she did kind actions.

''Take it.'', she said, her mouth in a straight line. The red on her cheeks had disappeared, and in its place her usual ashen color had taken the place. ''I'm not that hungry, and I see the way you look at the others plates.''. A moment of silence, and a rubber glove had taken the plate from the Spy's grasp. A smile broke out on the Engineers face, and a 'Thank you!' came from his thin lips.

A strained smile, but a smile nonetheless, was seen on Cyrille's face, and she walked out of the kitchen with steady steps.

A few seconds later, a growl of a stomach was heard from the hall, and a 'Merde' came from the woman which the sound came from.

Back in the kitchen there was silence, but then a small pat from the Scout to the Engineer, a smirk resting on the youngsters face was enough for everyone to understand that something was on the way. ''So… You got something going with Spy?''. A cough, a splatter and a wheeze was all that was heard from the Engineer as he coughed up the omelet he had just swallowed, a strained 'Of course not' getting past his lips. The smirk only became wider. ''But you want something to happen?''.

''No!'', came the answer, and the Engineer was as red as a tomato in his face. A laugh, and a 'Sure thing, Engie', came from the Scout. The rest of the company just simply laughed at the blushing man, and he tipped his hardhat over his face.

A crackle over the intercom was all they heard, and the grave voice of the Administrator was enough for them to forget what just happened.

''Mission begins in 10 minutes!''.


End file.
